


Steno prompt response 2017

by Khalehla



Series: Stenoprompts [3]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Crack, Fluff, Humour, M/M, Prompt Fill, Some chapters are AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2018-09-14 09:45:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9174604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khalehla/pseuds/Khalehla
Summary: A collection of one-shot fics based on some prompts found onstenoprompts, all revolving around Marc-André ter Stegen and Bernd Leno.





	1. Babe (v2.0)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #10 
> 
> Secret relationship!Steno 
> 
> Marc and Bernd have been in a secret relationship for a while, but because of their history as hated rivals, it’s easier for them to not tell anyone than to explain how they got together. 
> 
> Bernd has Marc’s name as “babe” in his phone. “Babe” calls and someone else (from Leverkusen or Germany NT) picks it up as a joke, only for Marc to practically yell “I got the confirmation for the resort in the Bahamas and I’ve just booked us flights so we’re definitely going for our anniversary!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For [eafay70](http://archiveofourown.org/users/eafay70/pseuds/eafay70), because you inspire me to write sequels and part 2s for me own one shots :)

Julian slowly pulls the phone away from his ear, stares at it for a couple of seconds, then calls out “hey Bernd! Babe says your anniversary holiday is booked!”

The entire change room turns to stare at Bernd.

“Really Jule?” Bernd sighs in exasperation, swiping the phone out of Julian’s hand before making his way out the door, phone pressed to his ear.

“I’m going to assume that was our other goal keeper playing in Catalonia?” Karim says softly so that only the German internationals nearby could hear.

“Who else?” Julian shrugs, as everyone goes back to what they were doing before the interruption. “Not like it’s much of a secret on the national team, anymore.”

“True,” Karim nods.

“Really, though; “babe”?” Jonathan asks, wrinkling his nose. “That’s like, sickeningly sweet.”

“You say that because you didn’t see them in the U21s,” Kevin says. “You would’ve been _begging_ for them to get along if you’d seen them then!”

“It didn’t get much easier when they both started getting regularly called up for the seniors together either,” Julian smiles. “You could cut the tension with a butter knife.”

“Man, remember those bets every time they had a fight?” Benjamin laughs.

“Oh yeah!” Julian and Kevin also laugh. “The ‘kiss or kill’ bets? Those were fun.”

“I lost a lot of money on those,” Jonathan says mournfully. “I swear I must have gotten only one right the whole time.”

“That’s only because you hadn’t been around them long enough to figure out what was a real fight and what was flirting,” Julian points out. “It was subtle, but there was a difference.”

“How do you know all this?” Jonathan asks, curious. “From memory, you didn’t win all that much either.”

Julian shrugs. “Like I said, subtle. Too subtle for most of us, apparently.”

“I did okay,” Kevin smiles. “Marco too. I think the two of us won about 60% of the time? Not as good as Manu, or Ju and Jo, but still better than Mario or Shkodran, who really should have been much better since they’re part of the same friendship circle.”

“Ju and Jo only won so much because Jo was practically attached to Bernd at the hips when they first got called up,” Julian says, rolling his eyes. “I don’t think they should have been allowed to join because they practically had insider information.”

“Well it’s too late now,” Karim says as they all get ready to leave. “Not like any of you are gonna have a chance to make up for your losses now that they’ve sorted themselves out.”

“Babe,” Jonathan says again, shaking his head. “Who’d’a thought?”

“Who’d’a thought, indeed,” Kevin agrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reference to the bets, can be read [here.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7250728/chapters/19669231)


	2. High-five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #13
> 
> Possessive!Steno. The longer they stay together the more possessive of each other they become.
> 
> It’s an international game and there’s a penalty shoot out and Marc-André (or Bernd) saves the day. Imagine the celebrations when the players run to congratulate their hero of the game.

As soon as the ball tips over the bar, the entire Germany bench jumps to life in an explosion of sound. They hug and scream and jump on each other, the joy and utter _relief_ of having survived the penalty shoot out too much for some (most!) of them, as there’s some tears being shed.

They all did good, and they had Marc-André not in any mood to offer his net to the Spaniards. And they know, to a man, that they owe this night to him really, not just for the saving the spot kicks but for his heroics during the 120 minutes as well; and they have to congratulate him, because it’s only fitting that their man-of-the-match gets most of the acclaim.

Almost as a silent command had been given, the ten outfield players simultaneously turn towards the keeper who is slowly walking towards them, gloves in hand and grin on his face, and rush at him. Only to stop a foot away and line up, taking turns to give him a combination of high-fives, fist bumps and hand shakes. As happy as they are and as much as they want to celebrate the win, with a certain other keeper not 30 meters away from them and able to see everything happening on the pitch, no-one’s quite willing to have Bernd stab them in their sleep for “inappropriate levels of affection” exchanged with the hero of the night.

Any other team and this would be weird, but this was _Die Mannschaft_ , they had their own unique [Rules](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9680759) TM that they lived by, and so long as they kept winning, they were all happy to follow them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason I always see this happening during [this international break](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6434710/chapters/16826086)


	3. You and me, we make a good team

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #19
> 
> AU where they are both bounty hunters trying to kill the same target and end up having to team up to keep all the other bounty hunters away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something of a birthday fic for MAtS
> 
> A prequel to [Parameters](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8140001). 
> 
> Additional tags: **Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents**

Bernd takes a deep breath, stills his mind and body, then softly presses the trigger of his rifle, letting the contentment wash through him even as he sees the balaclava-clad assassin drop as Bernd’s bullet takes him right in the heart. On the ground, a familiar figure dressed in all black turns to give Bernd a salute before quickly throwing his hand out and embedding a short knife into the throat of another balaclava-clad assassin trying to sneak up on him.

Bernd smirks, then calmly moves his scope around to make sure that the four already dead weren’t going to be joined by any colleagues. When he’s sure there’s no-one else coming as backup, Bernd packs away his rifle and silently runs down the fire escape to join his sometime partner on the ground.

“Nice shot,” Marc-Andre says without looking up from where he’s hacking the electronic safe of the house they’re breaking into.

Bernd hums in response, watching with professional curiosity and more than a little impressed with how quickly Marc was working. “We should hurry,” he says quietly, “I’ve got tickets for the new Bond movie at midnight and I don’t want to miss it.”

His fellow bounty hunter throws him a disbelieving look. “How can you watch those movies? You should know how completely fake those scenes are.”

“I like all the explosions,” Bernd shrugs, “because I’d never get to do actually use that much explosives in real life.”

Marc thinks about that for a couple of seconds, then nods. “Fair enough,” he says, then yanks the safe open to retrieve the envelopes inside. They quickly go through them until they find the key they’re looking for; they don’t bother putting everything back or cleaning up because they want whoever finds the dead bodies to believe that it’s because of a robbery and not an outright assassination. The key they needed to get if they had the time and means, but it was actually only secondary to putting a bullet into the forehead of the guy in the expensive silk suit now slumped dead at his writing desk in the corner.

“What are you doing now that we’re done here?” Bernd asks after they’ve delivered the key and proof of the deadness of their target to the secret agency handling this hit and they receive confirmation that their bounty reward has been received in their accounts.

“Nothing really,” Marc says, lifting an eyebrow. “Why? You gonna ask me to join you for a movie like a date?”

“You wish ter Stegen,” Bernd snorts, trying not to blush at the fact that that was exactly what he was going to do. “It’s called small talk.”

Marc just laughs, and they part ways at the door, Marc going who knows where and Bernd heading home. He’s disappointed, because he was actually hoping that Marc would invite himself to the movie with Bernd - just like he’d done in the past, tagging along to late dinners and very early breakfasts after a successful job - so that Bernd could see if Marc was interested in changing their current status quo.

Right now they were unofficial partners in crime who had over the years of repeatedly popping up at the same hits, had found out that they worked really well together. At first, they’d accidentally teamed up with each other when a few other bounty hunters had all crowded together for the one hit, and because the reward was in the six figures, no-one had wanted to back down from it. Bernd had no idea who Marc-André was at the time, but when he’d taken out the guy trying to sneak up on Marc while Marc was dispatching another amateur hitman, Marc had actually turned around and thanked him, which had thrown Bernd off because he had planned on taking out Marc too. By the time he’d recovered, Marc was already around the corner and Bernd had had to run to catch him, not willing to give this hit away. Because he was rushing, he’d missed the competition coming down from the vent and only knew he was there when Marc had shot him over his shoulder. They were even then, having saved each other’s life, and they’d decided to “celebrate” by splitting the bounty.

The few hits they’d somehow showed up at at the same time they’d work well together to get the job done and Bernd found that he didn’t mind sharing the reward since it was a joint effort after all. Besides, Marc was funny, cute, and ruthless as hell, and working with him meant fun during the job, and getting home in half the time than if he did the job himself. Did he mention that Marc was cute? So after four years or so of “working” with Marc three to four times a year, he’d finally decided that their casual relationship had run its course and wanted to see if there was chance to make their accidental arrangement more permanent.

A committed _professional_ agreement in which they discuss casing the hits and coming up with a team plan before going for their target, as opposed to showing up and trying to work around each other would be ideal. Yes, they worked awesome together, but there had been a few very close calls and Bernd rather selfishly wanted to reach his thirtieth birthday, thank you very much. Now, if Marc was also interested in a permanent _personal_ relationship as well (hey, he’d caught Marc checking him out at least once every job they did so the guy had to be at least a tiny bit interested), then Bernd was seriously down for that as well.

It takes two more jobs before Bernd realises that Marc had actually been interested at least five jobs ago, and only because Marc had rolled his eyes when he’d blushed at the flirting, muttered “oblivious idiot - how much more obvious am I going to have to be?”, then shoved him down onto their now-dead target’s giant bed and proceeded to stick his tongue in Bernd’s mouth. It had been a glorious ten minutes of making out, then they’d gone to collect their reward, have a nice late dinner at Marc’s favourite Japanese noodle place, then locked themselves in Bernd’s apartment for the next three days.

Despite being annoyed at how long they’d taken to get there, Bernd was happy that he’d been right after all. They worked even better together than he imagined, and because they were so efficient with their work, unless the job was specifically for a termination, they’d learnt to go through a job with mostly non-lethal actions, which, if asked, was something important to Bernd. He considered himself a geek primarily, and his skills with a rifle only became necessary because he had to keep himself safe when out on a job. When he’d first started off, he’d been young and inexperienced and desperate to survive the industry he’d fallen into, hence being okay with the violence; now that he’s older and wiser, he wants to slowly start shifting away from inelegant mob-like hits.

Luckily for them, their efficiency and growing record with getting jobs done meant that they’d started rising in the ranks of the secret agency, and after another two years of working as an official partnership, they’d started actually being _offered_ assigned jobs, rather than have to sift through the bounty jobs on the free-for-all lists. It had been incredible to know they’d come so far, and they’d celebrated their first successfully completed assigned job by booking one week in the Bahamas and they'd done nothing but eat, swim and have ridiculous amounts of sex. It was glorious, and what made it better was that they’d come back from holidays with an offer of information retrieval work.

Bernd feels that life just couldn’t get better than this, but hey, it seems he was wrong. When they deliver the hard drive to the agency, Clemens tells them that they’ve got another job offer if they’re interested, and that this time, they can actually meet the contractor. It’s so completely contrary to everything they know about the way the secret agency is set up, that they agree to meet the contractor who’s waiting for them in one of the small conference rooms. He’s not what they were expecting.

The man looks to be in his mid-to-late fifties and could have stepped out of a fashion magazine for older gentleman. When they enter, he scrutinises them wordlessly for about half a minute, then he nods.

“Yes you’ll do,” he mumbles almost to himself, then he takes his hand out of his pocket and offers it to them. “I’m recruiting; I’d like you to join my organisation. The DFB. I’ve read your reports and am reliably informed that you’re consistent and good at what you do. What do you say? You can start at the beginning of next month.”

Bernd blinks. “Sorry?” he says, thoroughly confused. He could have sworn that old dude with epic Beatles haircut just offered him and Marc a permanent job at another secret, though official sounding, agency, without even interviewing them (although he’s pretty sure that if this guy was “reliably informed” about them then he had the means to look into their lives quite easily. Bernd doubts they’d even get this face-to-face meeting if whoever did the background check on them found anything unsuitable.)

“We’re looking for more people with your particular skillset.”

“Both of us?” Marc asks.

Mr. Epic Beatles Haircut looks between them vaguely. “I was informed that you come as a joint package - is this not correct?”

“Ahh yes,” Bernd says, blushing slightly.

“Then yes, the two of you; speak to Urs if you want the job.” Then he wordlessly turns on his heel and leaves the room while Bernd and Marc gape at each other.

They catch up with Mario, a fellow bounty hunter friend, for dinner and tell him about the weird meeting. He’d been taking jobs with the secret agency longer than they have, and maybe he knows something about the way that it works that they don’t.

“That was the director!” Mario gushes at them excitedly.

“What?” Marc-André asks, surprised at Mario’s reaction.

“That was the Director of the DFB, and he’s just offered you a permanent job as an operative!”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“Yes!” Mario exclaims. “He goes to the agency a lot to pick out the best there is, and once you start working for him, you’re pretty much guaranteed job security!”

“Really?” Bernd asks, incredulous but getting excited as well.

“Yeah! I mean, the pay isn’t gonna be as great as if you work alone, but hey the job benefits are awesome: tactical gear provided, proper missions, _health care!_  What else do you need?”

“How do you know all this?”

“I um, kinda have been working for him for a couple of years now,” Mario admits sheepishly. “We’re not allowed to talk about work with outsiders but if you guys got offered a job anyway…”

“Wow!” Bernd says, turning to Marc who’s got a thoughtful expression on his face. Bernd curbs his excitement knowing they’re going to have to make sure they do their homework on this mysterious DFB. The one advantage of being independent was that all the liability was yours and yours alone - if they signed up “officially” with an agency, they could end up in some cell or with bullets in their heads just by association. Not that Bernd didn’t already know the risks when he got into this line of work, but at least if someone threatened to kill him, he knew it was because of something he did himself rather than as part of a corporate revenge act.

“This DFB, are legit?” Marc asks cautiously.

Mario waves his hand. “Outwardly legit, kinda non-existent, semi-officially sanctioned, secret organisation.”

They stare at him. “What?”

“It’s legit,” Mario sighs. “I can’t tell you much except they’re kinda a cross between a legal firm, a spy agency, security specialists and private investigators. And just about every government, shady and corporate organisation who can afford their services knows how to use them. It’s about as legit as you can get in our line of work.”

“Well that’s something,” Marc says slowly. “We’ll check it out.”

“Great! It’s gonna be so awesome if we get to work together!” Mario gets excited again. “Man the stories I can tell you! This one time I was in Miami…”


	4. Brothers, ugh.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt #34
> 
> Marc-Andre is tired of his extended family asking how come he doesn’t bring anyone to family events, so he asks one of his friends to come as his fake partner. What he didn’t count on is the person that his brother was planning on setting him up with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fake relationship AU with a twist.
> 
> Very minor Götzeus

Jean-Marcel was the worst brother in the world and Marc-André hated him. Now normally Marc got along really well with his older sibling, but today, he was very much happy to strangle his brother if only his mother wouldn’t be so disappointed in him if she found out he was even thinking about it.

“I really hate you,” Marc said with as much venom as he could muster.

“And here I thought I was doing you a favour,” Marcel responded mildly. “Weren’t you the one complaining about not having a date for Sabrina’s wedding? Why are you so annoyed that I tried to set you up with someone?”

Marc stared at his brother in exasperation. Yes he had spent a good four hours whining during a family lunch that all the aunts and cousins and various busy-bodies who would be going to their cousin Sabrina’s wedding were probably going to give him grief yet again for coming to a family event on his own -

(“still haven’t found yourself a nice boy or girl to settle down with Marc? What _have_ you been doing? You’re not going to be young and pretty forever, you know; better get a move on before time passes you by”)

\- but wasn’t his brother used to that? Marc had spent the last two years complaining about the exact same thing, and in that whole time, Marcel had sat there and let him suffer like the evil brother he was, rather than be a _good_ brother and help him out. All those times when Marc would have been grateful for his brother’s support - even something as simple as getting Aunt Aubrey’s attention so that Marc could slink away would have have been really appreciated - why now when Marc didn’t really need it, did his annoying brother finally come up with the perfect solution?

“Why the hell are you doing this today of all days, on Sabrina’s _actual_ wedding, when I don’t need your help anymore?” Marc demanded. “Couldn’t you have mentioned your plan _before_ I asked Marco to come as my date?”

“You’re just mad because Bernd’s exactly your type and now you can’t even hit on him because everyone already thinks you have a boyfriend,” Marcel shrugged.

Marc-André resisted the urge to groan in frustration, because as much as he hated to admit it, his brother was _right_.

Asking Marco to pretend to be his date so that all the annoying relatives and their questions would just stop had been a brilliant idea at the time. Marco was one of his closest friends, but only his immediate family knew that, and they were willing to go along with it. The plan was to have Marco come to the wedding but rather sneakily only ever refer to him as his best friend, thereby allowing the meddling relatives to jump to their own conclusions without having to confirm anything. Later, Marc-André could mildly object that they were better off as best friends and the questions would - hopefully - stop for at least another two years.

It was perfect plan; except evil brother Jean-Marcel had decided to turn his brilliant plan into “the most inconvenient idea _ever_ ” by casually pointing out the cute guy standing in for the photographer’s assistant _who_ _happened_ _to be single_ who Marcel thought about setting Marc up with. Any other time and Marc would have thanked his brother then drank enough alcohol to muster up some Dutch courage and flirt in the hopes of getting the guy’s number, but today all Marc could do was sit in the corner and sulk because he supposedly already had a boyfriend and would just look like a cheating asshole if he tried to hit on the other guy now.

Naturally, Marco thought it was hilarious.

“I’m going to talk to him,” his friend said when Jean-Marcel finished explaining the situation, getting up from the table.

“Marco, no!” Marc-André hissed, making a grab for his friend’s shirt to stop him.

But his traitor friend ignored him and walked up to the other guy - Bernd, apparently (and what type of old fashioned name was that?) - and casually started talking to him. Marc used his non-existent psychic powers to silently tell his friend to _stop talking to him and shut up and get back here before someone figures out that we’re not actually together_ but naturally, that doesn’t work. Marco stayed chatting to Bernd for at least ten minutes and only came back when the wedding photographer needed Bernd’s help to climb a lamp (of all things) so they could get a good overhead shot.

“He’s nice, but a little shy,” Marco said when he takes his seat next to Marc. “He’s into football as well so I invited him to Tuesday nights if he’s free.”

Marc stomped on Marco’s foot. “Why the fuck did you do that?”

“Because somebody had to,” Marco replied after stomping on Marc’s feet in retaliation. “Don’t worry, I didn’t embarrass you or anything, it was just an invitation; who knows, he might not even come.”

Bernd showed up, of course he does, and Marc-André does a decent job of embarrassing himself by squeaking in surprise when they find out that Bernd generally plays in goal as well. It’s a good game and Marc had a very good view of Bernd saving a couple of shots on goal (scoping out the competition, Marc tried to convince himself). He’s quite good, and Marc told Bernd that over a couple of beers afterwards. Bernd went pink at the compliment and Marc just about melted into a puddle of goo. They talked casually about what work they did and other stuff when all of a sudden Bernd stopped, watching in confusion as Mario draped himself all over Marco and proceeded to steal Marco’s food and drinks. Marco just grinned like an idiot the whole time.

“Doesn’t that bother you?” Bernd asked.

“Uh, what bothers me?”

“I mean, I know it’s only my first time playing and I don’t know anyone and you all seem like good friends, but doesn’t it bother you that another guy’s practically sitting in your boyfriend’s lap?”

Marc blinked, then, “Oh! No! Marco’s not my boyfriend.”

Bernd looked even more confused. “He’s not? But at the wedding?”

“Yeah. So. About that,” Marc laughed nervously, “I kinda asked Marco to come because, well, annoying family, ya know? I just needed them off my back and bringing a fake date along seemed like a good idea at the time?”

Bernd tipped his head to the side. “So you and Marco aren’t actually together?”

“No. Close friends, but no. Mario’d kill me if I even thought about hitting on Marco.”

“Heh,” Bernd said, then asked him how long they’d all known each other and that effectively changed the topic.

The next week though, Marc managed to screw up his courage and casually-but-not-really-casually ask Bernd for his number because well, reasons.

Jean-Marcel, naturally, decided to take full credit when they start dating.

“Who do you think managed to convince Dan to get his brother to take his place at the wedding?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Marc demanded. “And who the hell is Dan?”

Jean-Marcel rolled his eyes. “Remember when we got the kids’ Santa photos taken last Christmas? My friend was the photographer.”

How could Marc forget? His nephew had convinced him to dress up as a Ninja Turtle so that they could be matching; Marc as Leonardo and Dennis as Michelangelo. It was hella uncomfortable and only the thought of disappointing his nephew stopped Marc from ripping it off, so he’d stood posed and tried not to die from embarrassment. “Yeah, so what about it?”

“Remember the elf that you were flirting with the whole time?”

Marc nodded. That was the one good thing about the photoshoot, he had to admit.

“That was Bernd.”

Marc blinked, then very slowly gaped at his brother. “It _wasn’t._ ”

“Oh yes it was,” Marcel smirked. “Apparently he thought the blue mask you were wearing made your eyes pop.”

Marc-André didn't know whether to strangle his brother or kiss him instead. The smug look decided it for him. It was official; Jean-Marcel was the worst brother in the world and Marc-André hated him.

**Author's Note:**

> \--  
> I have a [tumblr account ](https://khalehla.tumblr.com) for my writings and random ficlets. If you have a question about this or any of my other stories, come say hi :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I write **fiction** about real people. As far as I know, none of these events ever happened; any resemblance to any actual events are purely coincidental.


End file.
